


Twice Loaded

by bad (leonshardt)



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-07 01:45:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1880397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leonshardt/pseuds/bad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with a stolen briefcase.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twice Loaded

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story about two violent sociopaths and their poor decision-making skills.
> 
> Unbeta'd.

The first gunshot misses, kicking up a spray of dirt inches from the BLU scout fleeing with the intelligence. The enemy scout stumbles mid-step, apparently surprised by the sniper fire, but then quickly regains his footing, sprinting with renewed urgency towards the nearest cover.

Sniper curses, but he’s already reloading—ejecting the spent shell, sliding a fresh round into the chamber, scoping in to aim—there. The scout’s darting from side to side in erratic leaps to avoid enemy fire, heading toward BLU base’s side yard, twenty, ten meters away, closing in.

He doesn’t make it. 

There’s a loud crack and a spray of blood, and Sniper watches through his scope as the BLU scout trips and slams into the ground like a sack of bricks, skidding to a halt as the briefcase tumbles out of sight. Before Sniper can reload, the scout rolls over onto his elbows and _drags_  himself forward, the agony showing clearly on his face as he laboriously crawls the final few feet to safety. Sniper takes a wild shot at the retreating figure, missing by several meters.

“Shit,” Sniper says, frantically grabbing for his radio and thumbing the switch.

“Oi, this is Sniper, requesting backup to left yard,” he barks, keeping one eye on the tracks where the scout had disappeared. He waits for a response with clenched teeth, but there’s nothing but faint static from the other end.

“Bloody pikers,” Sniper hisses. His teammates are probably either dead or stuck in respawn, which means it’s up to him to finish the job. Bloody great. If nothing else, retrieving the briefcase would give him an excuse to leave his perch for a while-- you know, stretch his legs, see some sights. Kill some people.

He grabs his kukri on the way down towards the battlements.

 

* * *

  

Unfortunately, the scout’s still alive when he gets there.

“Aren’t you a little young for this line of work?” Sniper says casually.

“Fuck you, asshole.” The BLU scout’s on the ground, slumped against the fence separating the two bases, clutching the briefcase with one hand and using the other to apply steady pressure to his leg, which is bleeding profusely where Sniper’s bullet tore right through. He’s pale from blood loss, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. Despite the scout's weakened state, Sniper knows to keep his distance. The most dangerous creature is the one that’s wounded _and_ cornered.

“Touchy little bugger, aren’t ya?” Sniper remarks, resting his chin in his hands.

The scout glowers at him. “You shot me in the goddamn _knee_ , you shithead,” he says, pulling his lips back to expose his teeth. “What, came all the way down here to finish me off in person? Nice touch, for a coward like you.”

“Yeah,” Sniper says mildly. “Now why don’t you do me a favor and snuff it so I can get me briefcase back?”

“Go to hell,” the kid sneers, and before Sniper can blink he’s whipping out a pistol from behind him and pointing it _right at his fucking face_  and then everything goes blank as instinct takes over. Sniper yells and leaps toward the scout, who, startled, pulls the trigger reflexively. The first shot goes wide, the discharge deafening, and then Sniper’s on the scout, stomping down hard on his hand with the heel of his boot. There’s a sick _crunch_  and the kid screams, and Sniper takes the opportunity to kick the pistol out of reach. The scout snarls, furious, as Sniper tackles him into the dirt. He wrestles the smaller man down, struggling to pin him against the ground, but the scout slippery as a fish and stubborn as hell. Sniper winces as the scout elbows him in the ribs, but there’s only so much the kid can do while wounded, having lost a significant amount of blood. 

There’s a dull roar in Sniper’s ears, blood pounding through his head in a haze, and through it the kid’s shouting, “ _Fight me, you fucking coward, FIGHT ME,_ ” and then Sniper raises his fist-- feeling a brief satisfaction at the  _oh shit_  look that flits across the scout's expression-- and then punches him right across the face.

The scout goes slack, possibly stunned, and Sniper pulls back slightly, breathing hard, knuckles stinging, but what he doesn’t expect next is for the bloody idiot to _laugh_.

 _This wanker is fucking insane_ , Sniper thinks, reaching for his kukri from where it hangs on his belt.

There’s blood on the kid’s mouth when he grins, all teeth and sharp fury and a look in his eyes that says, _Come on and do it, do it, do it, I dare you,_  and all Sniper can hear is the blood pounding in his ears as he fists his hand through the kid’s hair and _pulls_. The scout yowls like an angry cat, hissing in pain and anger until he’s choked off by another hard tug from Sniper that jerks his head all the way back, too taut to make a sound. From this angle Sniper can appreciate the way every vein shows up clearly on the scout’s bared throat, the way his windpipe tightens for air, and yeah, it’s kind of nice that the kid’s finally shut up. And to his horror, Sniper can feel himself getting hard from all the kid’s squirming, the friction as he tries to push Sniper off, the sticky wetness of blood seeping through his shirt.

“This is gonna hurt, mate,” Sniper says, raising his kukri, and through it all the goddamn kid’s still grinning when he brings his blade down.

  

* * *

 

Maybe it’s appropriate in their line of work, but it becomes increasingly evident that the BLU scout is _fucking unhinged_  when he comes back the next day, looking for a fight. Or revenge. Either one is equally asinine, Sniper thinks. But he would have never anticipated that the BLU scout was capable of an actual _ambush._  

The word is surpised, actually, when the kid comes knocking up his nest, firing his scattergun in the tiny room and calling for a fight. There’s a short scuffle, the sound of the window shattering, mugs of decaf coffee pitching to the floor. Surprise turns to anger when the fucker gleefully shoots him in the legs, and anger turns to dull annoyance when he’s lying on his back, rifle kicked out of reach, staring up at the BLU scout leaning over him.

“Not so fun bein’ on the other end, is it?” he says viciously, prodding Sniper’s marred leg with his bat. Sniper exhales sharply, gritting his teeth at the pang that shoots through his lower half.

“Well done, wanker,” Sniper grinds out, “So are you gonna kill me already or you gonna play some more?”

The kid grins, sharp as a razor. “Is that an invitation?” he asks, and he licks blood off the corner of his mouth in a way that makes Sniper swallow, hard.

 _I’m in over my head_ , Sniper thinks, and there goes any chance of him dying with dignity. Before he can speak, there’s a blur of motion as the bat swings down, and then everything pitches into darkness.

 

* * *

 

Life hits him like a slap in the face.

Sniper snaps his eyes open, blinking slowly. The ceiling that swims into focus is a regrettably familiar one. He’s in the RED locker room. Looks like respawn caught him again, which would mean…

_Son of a bitch._

Through the haze, Sniper can feel the beginnings of a headache throbbing behind his temples. There’s a clinking sound coming somewhere from his left; groaning, Sniper rolls to his side. A few feet away, the RED engineer is rummaging through his toolbox, muttering under his breath. 

He sits up with a grimace, rubbing his forehead.

“Hey,” the engineer says, noticing his scowl. “Bad day at work?”

Sniper grunts. "Something like that."

It had taken him a long time to respawn, and according to the clock hanging above the lockers, it’s almost time for his shift to end.

“See ya next week,” Sniper mutters, getting up to leave. If anything, he deserves a little time off.

 

* * *

 

Sniper’s van is almost a mile out from the RED base, right at the edge of the badlands. He’s always preferred the privacy out there, the quietness, the calming sea of stars twinkling above his head at night.

It’s dark when he gets back, and his van is there waiting, slightly dusty. What he doesn’t expect when he opens the door is to see is the BLU scout waiting for him, casually sitting on his bed, tossing a baseball back and forth between his hands.

“’Sup,” the kid says.

“ _No_ ,” Sniper says automatically. This cannot be happening. Oh look, and his headache just got worse. He squints at the other man, rubbing his temples. He pauses for a moment, taken aback.

“Are you not wearing a shirt?” he says.

The scout mouth quirks up to one side. “Come on, man, it’s like a hundred degrees out there.” He holds up his wadded-up shirt, tossed unceremoniously next to Sniper’s pillow. “Christ, how can you live like this?”

“Uh,” Sniper says. He’s still unsure if this is real life, or a respawn-induced hallucination. Whatever. Weird shit happens.

“Can I ask,” Sniper says patiently, “What the bloody hell you’re doing in my van?”

“Come on, I thought we had something goin’ there for a moment,” Scout says.

Sniper raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms. Seeing his expression, Scout stops playing with his ball for a moment and leans forward.

“I’ll go if you ask me to,” he says quietly.

It takes Sniper a moment to reply because he’s distracted, staring at the kid’s bare chest, the way his dog tags clink against his collarbone, covered in a slight sheen of sweat. Sniper swallows, his throat dry.

When he finds his words he blurts, “Are you gonna to kill me again?”

“I’d do that too, if you asked,” the kid says, grinning.

And the thing is, Sniper’s tired and dirty and angry but when he looks at the scout sitting on his bed and thinks, _To hell with it,_  and the next thing he knows he's pulling the kid forward by his neck and crashing their mouths together. Scout’s eyes widen, and for a second Sniper thinks he made the wrong call, but then the kid slides his eyes shut, kissing Sniper back fiercely.

As it turns out, kissing Scout is a lot like fighting him, and it hurts almost just as much. The kid likes to use his teeth, and it’s not long until Sniper tastes blood on the edge of his mouth.

“Fucking finish what you started,” the kid growls, yanking Sniper’s shirt over his head. When his shirt finally comes off, Scout starts to pull Sniper toward the bed.

“Not in here,” Sniper says, as he stumbles in the cramped space. The scout gives him a quizzical look, and it makes sense, okay, Sniper’s tiny camper van is too small to hold the two of them and have the furniture survive intact. Sniper reaches into the drawer behind him, fingers sliding, uncoordinated, and quickly grabs a small bottle and a wrapper.

Then he yanks the Scout forward towards the door, pinning him against it, and damn if it’s getting difficult to think because the kid’s pawing at his zipper, yanking his waistband down, and Sniper’s so ridiculously hard at this point he doesn’t even care if the entire thing is just respawn fucking with his head again. 

His breath hitches when the scout palms his cock, and phenomenally, miraculously, he finally finds the door handle and then the two of them tumble outside, the cool night breeze blowing against their bare skin. They shed the rest of their clothes, dropping them in the dust below, and then Sniper grips the scout by the waist, hard enough to bruise, and hauls him onto the hood of the van. The scout makes an _Oof_ sound as his back hits the windshield with a clatter, and then Sniper’s on top of him, scraping his teeth down his chest and over his stomach, teasing lower with his tongue.

The scout’s babbling now, letting out a stream of “ _come on, do it, just fucking do it already—_ , and when Sniper takes his entire length into his mouth in one fluid motion he let’s out a loud keen, threading his hands through Sniper’s hair. Sniper bobs his head, tonguing the slit of Scout’s cock, and he’s rewarded with a gasp and more cursing as Scout shudders. 

It’s bizarre, because Sniper had always pictured this the other way around, with the scout choking down his dick after a bloody tussle. In the end it doesn’t matter, fucking the scout back in his nest, or just slicing his throat afterwards with his kukri, everything blended together after a while like a half-remembered dream.

Scout’s harsh panting snaps Sniper out of his reverie, and from the way the kid’s gripping on to him for dear life, Sniper can tell he’s close to coming. Sniper withdraws with a slick _pop_ and the kid sighs, eyebrows furrowing.

“What the hell?” he manages, breathing heavily. “Why’d you--?” 

Ignoring his confusion, Sniper grips the scout’s hips, right below where there are already bruises blooming on his ribs, and flips him over unceremoniously. The scout squirms for a second and then stops, blinking in understanding.

“Here, let me,” he says, as Sniper uncorks the lube. Sniper hands him the bottle and watches as the kid slides one finger into his entrance, then two, biting his lip, eyelids fluttering shut. He’s rocking against the slick of his fingers now, making little insistent noises, and Sniper watches in fascination even as he rips open the condom with his teeth.

“Up you go,” Sniper says, pulling the Scout upright. The kid gives has the audacity to throw him a smirk, wrapping his thighs around Sniper, pulling him closer until their faces are almost touching.

“Show me what you got,” he whispers, eyes burning.

The first thrust elicits a loud moan, and Sniper’s not sure if it’s him or the scout making the sounds. It’s hot, almost burning inside the scout, and the sudden friction is so, overwhelmingly, incredibly good. Sniper’s grateful that they’re this far out from civilization where no one can hear them, because when the next time the scout drives up against him it’s definitely him making that low whimpering sound in the back of his throat. The scout’s muttering filthy things in his ear now, dirty talk mixed in with insults and incoherent swearing, breath hitching with every move. Sniper runs his fingers through the scout’s hair, getting a firm grip on those soft locks, and pulls, hard.

“Not agai—“ the scout says, but he’s cut off as Sniper yanks his head back further. The scout glares at him, jaw wrenched open, unable to speak. He wheezes for air, his adam's apple bobbing on the line of his throat with every swallow. 

It’s exhilarating, is what it is, fucking the kid into ruin on top of his van. The way he squirms and gasps beneath him is a goddamn work of art, Sniper thinks, and he’s so enthralled that he hardly notices the kid dragging his neck down closer until he nips Sniper’s shoulder, and then _bites_ , hard enough to draw blood. Sniper howls, and the scout laughs in little breathy moans, flashing red on his teeth.

“You—are—a—bloody—lunatic,” Sniper growls, between thrusts. He’s close, and he’s never wanted to come this much in his entire life, fucking hell, and it’s so embarrassing, rutting up against the kid like a horny teenager. The scout digs his fingernails in Sniper’s back, and it hurts, it makes him angry, so Sniper reaches down and grasps the scout’s dick in one rough hand and _jerks_.

The kid shudders, letting out a strangled moan, open-mouthed against Sniper’s neck as his orgasm hits. He’s clenched so tight around Sniper’s cock, and the slick heat is just enough to finish Sniper off. There’s a warm splatter on his stomach as he comes, eyes open, blood pounding in his ears, watching the scout’s face carefully. He’s flushed all over and breathing heavily, splaying his limbs across the hood. After a moment, he pushes Sniper off, who clumsily rolls over until his back is on the windshield. They both take a moment to catch their breaths.

“Damn,” Sniper says.

“Yeah.”

Sniper tilts his head towards the Scout, who’s staring up at the night sky. “Are you gonna kill me now?”

The scout shrugs, legs dangling over the edge of the van’s hood. “Maybe. You’ve got a really fucked up preoccupation with death, you know. Whatcha gonna do about it?”

Sniper pauses. “I dunno,” he says, finally. “What do you think I should do?”

“I think you should wash your goddamn car, dumbass.”

Sniper flips him off, and the scout laughs. They don’t speak for a long time after.


End file.
